Bleeding Drops of Red
by TriggerHappyWorld
Summary: Loyalty means nothing unless it has at its heart the absolute principle of self-sacrifice. - Woodrow Wilson. Part 1 in a new series. For more details, read Author's note for Chapter 2.
1. O, Captain

**A/N: **I know! Another 'Loyalty' centered fic! Ahhh!…Okay, each chapter is going to be a somewhat missing scene from the part 2 episode of 'Loyalty' before continuing after the episode aired into my own 'what if' story. It won't be long though; I'm aiming for only about five chapters. Anyway, Thanks and Enjoy!

**Rating: **T

**Pairing: **B/A (of course)

**Warnings/Spoilers: **Season 9 spoilers for 'Loyalty'.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything, seriously.

"_Loyalty means nothing unless is has at its heart the absolute principle of self-sacrifice." _-- Woodrow Wilson

* * *

"I'm not torturing myself."

Those had been the first words out of his mouth when he opened the door to let her in. It had been a lie; one that she had caught onto quickly. He didn't even try to hide the pain in his voice, his eyes, his soul. They were both in pain, both hurting, both still in shock.

She still had on her dress blues, having gone to Ross's sister's house straight from the graveyard. Nichols was probably still there, or maybe he had finally gone home like him. The guilt he had been feeling hadn't gone away, even after learning of Ross's uncover operation with the FBI. Being there, surrounded by his captain's family and seeing his sons mourn their father, it had all been too much. He had shut down, and then he realized that he had been passed by and ignored the whole day. With no longer wanting to feel like a ghost in the corner, he had left.

He was surprised that she had come looking for him. He thought that she would ignore him too.

Alex regarded him as he paced around the kitchen while she took off her jacket.. Placing it over a chair, she asked, "Got anything good to drink?"

"Yeah, sure…Uh, how 'bout some bourbon?" he had asked as she eased into his personal space and shook the remainder of his control merely by her presence.

She had mistaken his offering as a stab at her past. He hadn't meant it that way; he had genuinely asked if she wanted to have a drink with him. Instead of accepting or declining, she attacked.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she had snapped sharply, viciously. "I'm not some drunk that has to drink every time someone I know dies. This isn't the same, this isn't--"

At hearing her anger, it sparked his all over again. He slammed the bottle down on the counter before smacking the cabinet door close. The vibration of the smack still tingled his hand. "Damn it, Eames! That wasn't…I hadn't been insinuating anything!" He had been so pissed off that he couldn't even talk or think straight.

She had stared at him for a long moment, both of them not knowing what to do or say as their mutual anger at the person responsible for the death of their friend, their captain, was still out there somewhere breathing.

Rubbing at her head, she sighed. Shaking her head, she told him, "I'm sorry, Bobby. I'm not angry with you and I know that you didn't mean it like that." She eyed the bottle. "Give me a glass, a _tall _glass."

After giving a nod, he had pulled down two tall glasses and filled them both. Handing one to her, they didn't bother making a toast to the dead, they just drank. The silence in his house was pulsing with their unspoken words of anguish, and disbelief, as he led her into the living room where they sat. He had put the bottle on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. It seemed like hours had gone by when it occurred to him that they hadn't spoken. Looking at his watch, it had only been about ten minutes.

Closing his eyes against the onset of regret that his last moments with his captain was spent questioning his integrity. The thoughts that had entered his head while he had a short and brief conversation with the man he called his boss, his friend, was that of a liar, of a crooked cop, of a criminal…and, of a lost and desperate man. It had torn him apart seeing Ross only a few hours later un-breathing…lifeless. To learn that his captain wasn't any of those things reassured him only long enough for the pain to creep in that he could have been responsible for his death.

"O captain…my captain…" his soft voice whispered in the silence, "…the bleeding drops of red, where on the deck, my captain lies, fallen cold…and dead." He went to take a drink from the glass and realized it was empty. Looking over at Alex, he explained, "Walt Whitman."

"You skipped about…_four_ lines?"

"Five. I can't remember the rest…my mind keeps, um, repeating those, over and over," he mumbled as he looked away, back to the empty glass and wishing it would magically get full.

"It's not your fault, Bobby."

He had looked over at her then; staring into her eyes that were desperately trying to convince him that those words were true, he slightly smiled. "I know, I know…but, knowing doesn't make the pain go away, nor the guilt."

As he was reaching for the bottle, her hand grabbed his, stopping him. Looking at her, he had seen the understanding, compassion, and hurt in her eyes.

Leaning toward him, she told him, "Stop beating yourself up. You're not at fault."

With that attempt at consoling him, she had succeeded in making him angry. He hadn't wanted, or needed, her reassurances. It wasn't going to make him feel better, happier, calmer…or saner. "Eames…You can't," he stopped and took a deep breath. "You can't make me suddenly okay. I'm not okay. I don't know when I'm ever going to be okay."

"Don't you think I'm hurting too? Don't you think I'm not feeling some guilt? I keep thinking about the last time I saw him, what I said. Did he realize that he was more than just my captain, but my friend? I was the one that found that e-mail; I was the one that couldn't stop the investigation while you were doing the paperwork--"

She had started crying as her voice pitched with the sorrow that overtook her. There wasn't anything he could do except watch her, put his hand on her shoulder, and pull her into a hug. Her tears had soaked through his t-shirt as she finally let go. For the past week, she had held all the strength and all the control as he spiraled out of it. She had been his rock so many times that he had stopped counting. The image of her, helpless and confused, angry and wrecked with grief, it had shaken him.

Holding her so close at first felt awkward. They had been partners, and friends, for nine years and this was the first time he had held her so close. It was close enough to smell her, to feel her heart beating against his chest, to feel her breath on his neck as she exhaled, and to be warmed by her body as it rested against his.

Then, suddenly, it had felt normal…familiar, like they had been doing it for years. Her trust in him and her level of comfort with him was what drove him to do it at first. It was so innocent, just a reaction to a horrible situation. A counter-reaction to all the pain and sorrow they had been feeling for a week. He wanted her to feel good, happy…It was just a simple gesture. A kiss.

He had placed it on top of her head, much like he had seen parents doing to comfort their children. He was sure he had said something meaningless, like…"Shh,…it's okay. It'll be okay."

There was no real memory of the words he said, no memory of how many kisses exactly he placed on her head before she stopped. Her breath caught in her chest, her trembling stilled, and the beating of her heart sped up as it pounded into him.

What had he done?

When she stopped breathing, he stopped. He froze with her in his arms as he felt her shift into him, turning her head up. Not wanting to see the anger or lost of trust in her eyes, he stared across the room at the blank television screen and wished to be a ghost again, hidden in a corner.

He had expected a hand to his face, a knee to his groin, or a sharp, unforgiving, "go to hell". Instead, he had felt her lips. They caressed lightly over his jaw and his chin. His eyes slid closed at the sensational shiver that shook his entire body. It was a miracle.

When her soft lips covered his, he lost all control. Pulling her to him, they deepened the kiss as they forgot all about the rules, not only the departments' but their own. The images of Ross's death faded from their passion driven minds as they responded to each others need to feel alive. To feel tears burning in their eyes from pleasure and love instead of sorrow and grief.

Everything had happened so quickly. They didn't even make it off the couch. She had pushed him down, straddled him, and rode him fast and hard until she collapsed, breathless and spent…and very much alive, on top of him.

That was where he was now. He was lying on his back, staring at his ceiling, with Alex resting on top of him. His hand rubbed the length of her spine as he tried to coax her back down to earth, to reality. There was fear that she would suddenly realize what she, they, had done and regret it. She could very easily hate him for the rest of her life, accuse him of taking advantage despite the fact that she was the one that literally jumped him.

All those thoughts vanished as she lifted her head to be staring into his eyes. She watched him with a small smile on her face, and tears in her eyes. Pulling her to him, he kissed her lazily over her lips. She breathed out against him and gave him one more kiss before resting her head on his clothed chest. They were both still pretty much clothed as neither one had given any considerable time to become familiar with the other's body. They had just reacted, and responded, to their equally desperate desire to feel something good.

It should have felt weird, and wrong, but somehow, it didn't. Bobby considered the possibility of why that was. Why he wasn't freaking out more than he was. Why she wasn't hitting him or leaving him already. Why he wanted to do it again, and again, and hopefully again. Maybe that was because he knew that it wasn't wrong. Maybe because he already knew what was going to happen, and he was prepared for it. It didn't bother him anymore. He no longer cared. The moment he found his captain dead, and learned the reason for it, he knew what he had to do. His mind was already made up.

"What'd we do now?"

At her question, he shook his head. "Find his killer."

Alex lifted her head and stared at him in perplexed confusion.

"Oh, you meant about us." He searched her eyes for any hint of what she wanted to hear. In the end, he sadly answered the truth, "I…I don't know, but…my bed is a much better place to contempt the answer to that."

Alex chuckled and went to get up. "I'll leave you to it. I should be going."

For the moment, that was all that was said, all that needed to be said, as he let her go.

The silence that lingered after she was gone was worse than the silence before she came. It always worked that way when the love of your life walks away. With him, there was no exception. He didn't want to get up off the couch after she left. There was no point, none…except to find Ross's killer. To get justice for their captain and his family.

He got up, put the bottle away, left the glasses in the sink, and went to get some sleep.

TBC…


	2. So Long

A/N: I know it's been forever and a day since I posted this story, but I've got a muse bug hitting me to complete this. It's not going to be long, one more chapter after this one. And, I think I might combine this with my story 'Never Say Never'.

So, I'm making this part one in a new series. Part two will be 'Never Say Never', which I will continue.

Enjoy!

* * *

"_An unknown sphere,_

_more real than I dream'd, more direct, darts awakening rays about me—_So long!

_Remember my words—I may again return"_

_'So Long' by Walt Whitman_

She stood in his kitchen, having yet to take a single sip of the coffee he'd offered, as she stared over at him. "I really feel I should try and talk you out of this."

"What? That's always been a wasted effort."

"Yeah…right," she said before shaking her head at him.

Bobby stared right back and nodded slightly; they both knew he had to do this. There was no debate, no plea for him to not dig himself in any deeper. There was only mutual agreement even though he could see that she wanted to try and stop him.

"I know that look," she told him. "You're prepared to take this all the way, aren't you?"

He gave a simple, short, "Yeah," and left it at that. His point was made, his mind was already made up.

There was nothing Alex could do except look back at the photo on his wall and say, "So, I'll agree to work with Nichols investigating you. I'm sure he'll only look at you for it for a grand total of one second before changing courses, if he hasn't already done so already."

"You trust him?" Bobby asked, causing her to look back at him. He missed seeing her eyes.

"Of course, don't you?"

Bobby nodded as he pushed himself off the counter. "No, I do. I was just…I don't think he, uh, quite knew what to do when I gave him that file before I left. He seemed, I don't know, shocked that I was suspended."

"He doesn't know you like I do," she said teasing him, but her eyes were sad.

Everything with them lately had grown into something that was bittersweet. With every smile and laugh, there always seemed to be a sadness behind it. He had been feeling it between them for years now, today was no different. Neither would be tomorrow.

Bobby had been avoiding contact with her ever since she stepped foot into his kitchen. He had been deliberately walking around her and away from her, not letting her get too close. There had been a purpose behind it; he didn't know what she wanted from him now. If she wanted closeness or if she wanted distance, there was no telling because she wasn't making any effort to show him. She had been standing nearly in that same damn spot the entire time.

Not knowing what to say as she just looked at him, Bobby gestured with a hand to the coffee cup. "You haven't taken a drink yet."

Alex looked down at it then said, "It's black." Looking up at him, she waited.

It took a moment before he realized what she was saying. "Oh, right…sugar." Bobby turned around and looked over his cluttered counters for the sugar. "It should be right here," he said as he search the counter tops. "I don't see…where I put it."

"Is this it?"

Turing around, he saw the container Alex was picking up off the table. "Yeah, that's it."

Alex had an amused smirk on her face as she used the tiny spoon to stir the sugar into her cup of coffee. "It's pink."

"It belonged to my mom. She left me everything…" he shrugged as he watched her. "It's a set. It came with a…a, uh, thing to put creamer in as well. It's in the refrigerator." While he watched as she sipped the coffee, continuing to stand there, he cleared his throat. "About the other day…"

"Bobby, don't."

"But-"

She sighed and sat the cup down on the table. Her eyes were looking at the floor, and then the cabinets, anywhere but at him. It made his chest hurt, his throat tight…Did she regret what happened?

"Okay," he said as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "We'll not talk about it."

"It wasn't a mistake, if that's what you're wondering," she finally said. "It's just that I don't know what to do about it either. We were both distort over Ross's death. We were both looking for some form of comfort, and we trust each other. We were safe." Looking up at him, she told him, "That's all it was. All it will ever be."

"Just that one night…in a moment of weakness. Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Staring hard at him, she asked, "You really want it to be more? You really want to do that to us right now when you're about to go off and do God knows what with terrorists?"

Bobby looked away as he chewed on his lip. She was right. Now wasn't the time for this to go any further. Now wasn't the time for _them_. And, he didn't know if he wanted there to be more either. He had no idea what he wanted.

Quite honestly, he was scared to death of the possibilities. Did he love her? Yes. But he wasn't sure of what kind-of love that was. Just the thought of being _in love _with her sent him nearly into a panic. He had to push that away. This was Eames, he couldn't be in love with her. It wouldn't be right, or professional, or…But it had felt right when they had sex.

And there it was. They had sex, so there had to be some form of romantic love between them, right? Yet, the sex they had was purely a physical act. There was no declaration of love between them, and he had to admit that he didn't do it because he wanted to make love to her. He just…needed her in that moment and so did she.

It was nothing more than that. They were still friends, they weren't lovers. They weren't anything more than what they have always been to each other. They were partners.

"No, you're right," he said as he gave a nod. "I wasn't…Uh, you know me, I'm always over thinking things. I shouldn't be trying to over think this by, uh, by making it more than what it was. What happened, happened, and-and we can move on."

Alex seemed to relax at that as she gave a nod and picked up the cup of coffee to finally drink it. "Okay. Now," she said after a couple drinks, "where do we start?"

Bobby gave her one last look before reaching behind him to grab a file that was lying open across his counter.

* * *

_Days Later_

As soon as he left Alex alone in her temporary office and started for his desk, he spotted Zach at the fax machine. Since he'd come to Major Case, he found himself taking a liking to the man. They had some great conversations over the past year. "How'd it go?"

Zach didn't look up at him as he said, "Oh, to be expected. I think I got to him though, telling him that he's going to be assassinated just like what he had done to his father."

"Hey, uh, I know that this is hard…"

The detective did look over at him then, telling him, "Don't do this. Okay? You can give me the whole 'this is for the greater good' speech all night, it's not going to make me like it, or you, any better for doing it."

Bobby stared at the man and felt for him. He felt the anger and resentment because he felt it too. Yeah, it was bullshit and he knew it. Captain Ross was still dead and the man responsible was walking free. He was putting a lot of trust in the FBI to not let that man slip through their fingers again, and this time he was going to do what he could to see to that. "I just…" he looked to the floor as he tried to think of something, of anything to say. He couldn't. There was nothing to be said. "You uh, wanna get a drink later? I'm sure you could use one, and I could definitely go for one seeing how I just got fired."

That stunned Zach but he didn't offer him any sympathies either as he said, "That's…They fired you?"

"Yeah, Eames," he looked back toward the office and saw her on the phone behind the desk. "She told me. Thought it would be better coming from her than, you know, going through a hearing."

Zach looked around at the nearly empty squad room. "What're you going to do now?"

Shrugging, he said, "I'll figure something out." But the truth was, he'd made a deal with the Feds. By this time tomorrow, he'd be undercover working for them. "Right now, I gotta clean out my desk." Bobby started for it as Zach followed. "I have no cases open at the moment, nothing that's going to trial. I do have several old cold cases that unfortunately I couldn't solve."

"What? You couldn't solve; don't tell me you're human after all," Zach tried for a little teasing even though he was still bitter.

Opening the bottom desk drawer, Bobby took out the few cases that for the past year went unsolved and handed them to Zach. "I'm not sure if Eames is going to want to assign these to anyone particular, so until then, have at it."

Zach was watching him as he took the files. "Are you sure you're okay with this? Maybe you could take it up with the union reps. Desk duty is better than no duty. You're losing everything. Your pension, your benefits. Unemployment is through the roof right now, you're going to need something."

Bobby shook his head in defeat. He knew this day would come, especially after Ross was murdered. He couldn't see it lasting; he was ready to go and it was time to move on. Besides, he wasn't getting any younger and he couldn't continue being a detective for that much longer. And there was no desire in him to be a Sergeant working a desk, or a Lieutenant overseeing a department. The only thing he hated was that he was only four years shy of his twenty years of service. He always hoped he would make it to twenty.

"What about your books? You taking all those home?"

He looked over at the stack of books that was on a cart next to his desk. It wasn't like he needed them anymore and if he did he could always go to the library or just buy another copy. "You want them?" he asked as he looked up at Zach at the same time he saw Alex walking toward them.

"Does he want what?" she asked as she stopped at her chair and looked over her desk.

"Oh, just that Goren's giving me his books."

A pained look crossed her face and Bobby inwardly felt that pain. This was it for them as partners. There would no longer be a Goren and Eames, and that just sounded God awfully wrong. Then she looked to Zach and asked, "Did he also give you his old unsolved cases?" When Zach held up the files, she opened her bottom drawer and took out a couple of case files. "Then you're going to be needing my files on the same cases, here."

Both he and Zach only watched as she dropped the files in his hands and then sit down at her desk. Bobby looked to Zach and then looked to her as he asked, "What's going on?"

Alex was pulling open drawers and looking around in them before announcing, "I'm going to need a box. You?"

Bobby gave a slight nod as he watched her get up and head toward the storage room. He turned and saw Zach heading to the Captain's office. Zach looked back at him and he bolted out of the chair and followed. Looking into the room, he saw, sitting on the desk, Alex's shield and gun. "She quit."

"She didn't tell you?"

Bobby thought back and then closed his eyes. "When, uh…After I congratulated her, she told me that it wouldn't be for long. I just…I thought she meant she wasn't going to accept being a-a, uh, a Captain. I didn't think she meant that she was going to quit." He turned and immediately went in search of her.

He found her in the storage closet. Alex was just standing there in the middle of the room staring at the rows of empty folded up boxes and lids. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked like she had been crying, or keeping herself from crying. Leaning against the doorframe, he cleared his throat a little before telling her, "You can always be a Lieutenant. And you'll make an amazing boss."

Alex turned to him and smiled warily. "Thanks, but…I really don't know if I can do it, not after having to fire you like that. Playing office politics isn't necessarily something I've dreamt of doing. I like the cases, I like pounding pavement, questioning witnesses, solving the case. Mostly, I like working with you, having you as my partner, while we solve the case."

Bobby pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped further into the small room that was filled with office supplies. "If you're doing this because of me, Eames, don't. Like you said, I did this to myself. I…I let it get too personal and I lost my judgment and I assaulted a man in the middle of the courthouse lobby. They have every right to fire me. If I were the boss, hell, I would have fired me. You even said that doing things that's hard, it's part of the job…even if you disagree with it."

"I know what I said," she snapped at him. "But this is my decision."

He breathed out and looked at the floor. "You thought once that…that I tainted your career by being your partner. Now look at where you're at. You aced the Lieutenant's exam, and they're offering you Major Case if you want it. You're three years away from your twenty and then you can retire with all your pension and benefits and not have to worry about a thing. You shouldn't just throw that away because you're pissed at the Chief. Hell, with how fast the Chief of D's have been coming and going, Moran will be gone soon enough anyway."

That got a smile and almost laugh out of her. He saw a few tears slide down her face and she quickly wiped them away. "I told him that I wouldn't be taking the Captain's exam, Bobby. And I'm not. I've decided to take two weeks of leave and then I'll give him my answer if I'm going to stay on as a Lieutenant or leave for good. However, if I stay as a Lieutenant, I'm not staying with Major Case. I'll seek a transfer to another department. I can't…no, I _don't _want to be here with you," she corrected.

Looking up at her, he nodded his agreement. "That sounds like a better plan than throwing in the towel." Stepping up to her, he pulled down a box for himself and quickly assembled it. "I hope you decide to stay. I might need a friend in the department."

Alex looked up at him and asked with a bit of teasing, "Planning on getting into trouble already?"

Bobby only shrugged as he went to lead the way out of the room. "You know me, I can't seem to stay out of it." Walking in-step with her down the hall and back to their desks, he asked, "Wanna get a drink with me and Zach? I'm gonna need you there in case he gets too drunk and tries to take a swing at me."

Smiling a little, she told him, "That sounds good. You buying?"

He looked around as he approached his desk and saw Zach down a few desks on the phone. "I just got fired," he protested. "If anything, you should buy me a drink."

It didn't take them long to clean out their desks. He had very little that belonged to him at the office. Most of the stuff belonged to the department like pens, markers, notepads, and other things. Whatever case files they did have they stored in file boxes and left them beside their desks to be properly filed away. The box that he was taking home was only half full and most of it was stuff that he didn't even need, like his car magazines. Alex's box was nearly full with all the stuff she had including the same photograph that had been sitting on her desk since she transferred to Major Case from Vice.

Taking one last look around, he asked, "Ready?"

"Almost," Alex said before she stepped up to he gun locker and started taking off the stickers and the tape that had her name written on it.

He had forgotten about that. Bobby reached up above her and peeled his name off his small gun locker. He didn't even look at it as he balled it up and tossed it into the trash. As he waited patiently for her to finish getting all the stickers off, which was slow because they weren't coming off too easily, he told her, "Now you'll have the time to go back to all those places. When was the last time you vacationed in Italy?"

Alex seemed to think about that as she groaned at a relentless piece that wouldn't come off. "Too long. This…it's not coming off," she sighed in frustration.

Chuckling a little, he said, "Hang on," as he pulled out his knife. Using the blade, he scraped the last pieces of sticky paper off the locker. "There, all gone."

Alex's smile was bittersweet as she repeated, "Yeah, all gone." Tossing the stickers and tape in the trash she faced him.

Bobby didn't want to think about what she meant by repeating those words with that tone. Staring down into her eyes, he wanted her to know exactly what he was thinking. "Alex…" he hardly ever used her first name, and he had been finding himself saying it more and more lately. It was a testament to how personal he had started to not only let the job get to him, but his friendship as well. "This isn't a goodbye. You know where I live and you have my number." She nodded a little and he saw the look of acceptance in her eyes. "We've been through too much together to ever say 'so long' to one another. We're friends and I can't imagine not having coffee or dinner with you at least once a month."

"Just once?"

He smiled slightly at that and rubbed at the back of his head. "You're going to be busy with family, your nephew, especially for these first two weeks off as you figure out your life plans. I'll be doing the same…while working for the FBI," he informed her. She had known something, or at least suspected, but he had yet to tell her the full story. He would, but not right now. Tonight, he told himself, before he left for Washington D.C. he would tell her what had happened between him and the Feds.

"Ah, so you did learn your lesson from last time."

At that quick, good-natured jab at his thoughtlessness from excluding her from knowing about his undercover work a year ago, he bowed his head in mock defeat and raised his hands. "Low blow, Eames. I made amends for that." He picked up his box then asked, "Need to say your goodbyes before we go?"

Shaking her head, Alex said, "The only person I would need to say goodbye to is telling me that this isn't a goodbye. So, no, I don't."

Bobby felt surprising smug and happy to hear that. "Alright, let's go." Before he got too far he called back, "Zach, we're on for drinks, right?"

"Sure," Zach answered. "Just call when you're ready to go and I'll meet you guys."

"Good luck," he told him before falling in step next to Alex. "That man's gonna need a lot of it."

"How long do you think he'll continue doing the job now that Ross is gone?"

Bobby shrugged as he hit the elevator button and waited. "He's quit once before, and I'm certain once it fully hits him about Ross's death…I give him a year, two at the most."

"It's a shame, he's a good cop."

Taking one last golden opportunity to change her mind, he added, "You're a good cop too, be a shame if you-"

"Goren," she groaned as she stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the lobby. "Don't even start."

Bobby resigned to leave it at that; that was until he got drunk enough to not care if she hit him for bringing it up again.

He saw her to her car and after she put the box in her backseat and shut the door, she asked, "What time tonight and where?"

"Uh, how about Gordon's at seven? That way we can also do dinner."

"Sounds good, let Zach know." She started up her car but didn't make a move to shift it into reverse. Looking up at him, she asked, "Bobby…Why that kiss?"

He felt the blush heat his face as he gave a shrug, saying, "We're no longer partners, and you're no longer my superior. I figured I could get away with it."

She turned her head, staring out the windshield before giving a nod.

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

Alex shook her head once before saying, "There's nothing wrong with a kiss between friends, Bobby."

If she was sending him a message, he got it loud and clear. "Okay. See you tonight."

He watched as she backed out, gave him a little wave, and then headed out of the parking garage. As he headed to his car, he smiled a little wider. He and Alex were no longer partners, and they weren't ever going to be lovers, but at least they were still friends.

And that was something that could never be taken away from them.

* * *

_Later that evening_

After an amazing steak dinner and drinks between them and Zach, Bobby asked for Alex to follow him home since he'd had more than a few beers. It wasn't a whole lot, not enough to get him drunk, but enough for if he'd gotten pulled over would result in him blowing over the legal limit. That was the last thing he needed after getting fired by his best friend, a DUI.

His other reason for asking her to follow him home was so that he could talk to her. Before she could drive away, he called out his window to her, telling her to come in. She looked hesitant but parked across the street. He parked his own car in the back and headed around to the front of the house to let her in the front door for a change.

"Want coffee?" he asked as he headed to the kitchen. "Or a beer? Scotch?"

"How about some water for a change."

"I can do water," he said as he pulled a glass down and used the tap water to fill it before handing it to her.

Alex took the glass and rolled her eyes.

"You know I don't buy bottled water. I've been drinking tap my whole life and I'm still alive. There's ice in the freezer if you want."

Alex still didn't look too happy but she added some ice cubes to the water and swirled it around before taking a sip. While she did that, he grabbed himself a beer and headed into the living room. A moment later, she joined him on the couch.

He downed half the bottle before he could look at her. Turning in his seat, he leaned back on the couch and waited until she looked over at him. "I need to tell you something."

She sat her glass down on the coffee table and turned in her seat, mimicking his posture as faced him and waited for him to continue.

"It's about what I'll be doing with the FBI." He saw her tense up at that but she remained quiet, waiting. "I'm…I'm going to be working with them, but undercover."

"Like what Ross did?" she asked as her voice raised in a near panic.

"Not quite. It'll be different. My role in the operation will be different. They won't know that I'm a…I mean, that I _was_ a cop. That part of the operation is over anyway. The missiles are on there way out of the country as we speak, along with the tracking devices intact."

Alex was quiet for a long moment before speaking. "When you told me you were going to be working with them, I didn't think you were going to do this. Bobby, they got Ross killed."

"He knew the risks, Alex. I know the risks. It's a risk we take every day on the job, this is no different."

She got up and started moving around the room. It reminded him of himself when he got agitated. Alex stopped moving as she looked over at him and asked, "Are you only doing this because you think that you need to validate _your_ life?"

He heard the fear in her voice, and he hated it. The pain of sadness of him being fired was better than her fear for his life. Bobby stared at her, trying to emphasize with his eyes that what he was about to say was the truth. "That's part of it, but not the only reason. I was being honest when I said that I respect Ross, and that I think what he died for should be protected. I'm going to make sure of that. We all want the same thing here."

"Yes, the same thing but not at the same price," she stressed as she crossed her arms to stare at him. "I buried one friend over this, Bobby, I don't-"

"You're not going to bury me," he groaned as he banged his bottle on the table, next to her glass, and stood. She was working him up, getting him angry.

"How can you be so sure? God, Bobby, why? Why you?!"

"Why _me_?" he asked as he turned to her in disbelief. "Why not me?! I've tried so many times to feel my life validated, to-to feel like it was worth all the effort I've put into staying alive, in staying here when it could have been so easy for me to give up. And it seemed like every time I've ever gotten close, the world, or God, or who-the-fuck-ever kicked me right back down! So why not try and get this one right? Why shouldn't I finally feel like my life is worth a damn?! And who better to do that for than for my friend! My captain!"

"Even if it means dying for it."

"Absolutely. I see nothing better to die for than to die for my country, or for my captain and all the reasons that he died for in trying to do the exact same thing. None of us want another 9/11, Alex. None of us want to see that much blood spilt ever again by an act of terror. And as long as I can do something about that, I will. Okay? Not now, not ever, not on my watch," he yelled out, finishing his tirade as he took in a deep breath as he stared hard over at her.

She was nearly shaking, and he didn't know if it was due to his anger or with her own fear. Either way, he wanted to console her. He took one step toward her and she backed away, shaking her head. Stopping before he could take another step, he looked away and picked up his beer to down the rest of it.

"When do you leave?" she finally asked once the silence became too much.

Taking a breath, he looked up at her and told her, "Tomorrow. I've got to go to D.C. for a briefing first. I'll be back for a few weeks to get everything situated here, and then I'm to go to Quantico for a few months to prepare. From there," he gave a shrug. "Wherever the mission takes me."

"And I'm guessing you don't know when you'll be back."

"I'll be back for those two to three weeks, but, if you're asking about afterwards…I don't know. But I assure you, Alex, I'll be back."

"Then let's hope it's not because you're being carried by six of your friends."

He felt the anger course through him again, and this time when he stepped toward her and she stepped back, he kept going until he was in front of her. Leaning to catch her eyes that kept wanting to look away, he saw the tears in them, threatening to fall. "Alex, look at me." When she did, he told her, "You know how stubborn I am. When I tell you that I will not die, I won't. I will make it back alive. That's a promise."

Alex swallowed hard as she stared back at him and gave a nod. "I'm holding you to that."

Bobby went to reach his hand out to touch her face when she closed her eyes and moved away.

"Don't make this any harder, Bobby," she told him, making him drop his hand. "We don't love each other like that, so let's not pretend that we do. Let's just be us tonight. Let's just be friends."

Hanging his head a little he said, "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry." That was the first time he felt like he had to apologize to her since the incident with Jo Gage.

Alex picked up her water and finished it off before looking around. "So, who's going to keep your place dust free, bills paid, and plants alive while you're gone?"

"Well," he said as he looked around and rubbed his neck. "There's you."

"There's also Lewis," she threw back at him, but he saw the teasing smirk.

"Please," he said with a sad look. "Besides, Lewis doesn't know how to clean, or how to pay his own bills on time."

With an eye roll, she said, "Fine, I'll do it."

Smiling a little, but having it never reach his eyes, he said, "Thank you, Eames."

"Yeah, yeah," she said as she turned and headed into the kitchen. "I think I'll go now."

Bobby stood standing for a moment, lost in thought, having barely heard her at all. When she came back into the room with her coat and purse, he answered by saying, "I'll walk you out."

"Do you need a lift to the airport?" she asked as they stood in front of her car.

He was standing in the street without his coat on, but the cool October night air felt good on his hot skin. Alex, however, had to wear her coat. Stuffing his hands into the jeans he'd changed into after work, he shook his head. "No, uh, I've got that covered, but thanks."

Alex looked slightly disappointed as she opened her car door. He reached out and held it open for her to get in.

"You said not to make it any harder…I'm listening to you," he told her before shutting the door.

Alex sat for a moment, taking that in, before putting her key in the ignition. "So, now you listen to me."

Bobby smirked a little as he stepped back. "You know, you need to make up your mind."

"My mind is made up," she nearly snapped at him.

"Then stop being pissed off at me."

"I'm not."

"Yes," he said as he turned to walk away from her one last time, "you are. Good night, Alex."

Bobby didn't know if she heard him or not because he was half way across the street when he told her that. He heard her car start up and then it drive off as he walked up the steps to his home, slipped quietly inside, and then shut the door.

TBC…


	3. A Clear Midnight

A/N: Last chapter to this story. Please read chapter two first, and if it's been awhile, chapter one.

Enjoy!

* * *

_The day had been hot, but the night was hotter as the thick humidity in the air tried to strangle every last drop of water out of his body. There was no working air conditioning in the car, making him have to roll the windows down. It didn't help; that only seemed to make it worse. His passenger didn't seem to mind as he talked on a cell phone. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he watched as Hassan made flight arrangements._

_He wasn't listening because there was no need. Hassan wasn't to make it to the private airstrip. The mission was complete. It had taken nearly a year running around Europe and half of the Middle East, but it was finally over. Hassan had made his final move, and the terrorist cells were being taken down, one by one._

_Using a handkerchief, he wiped the sweat off his brow and his neck as he steered the speeding car down the long desert road, kicking up sand and dirt for miles in the dark. There was nothing around them for miles. No homes, no buildings, no gas stations or lights, there was nothing but sand. Sand and darkness._

_His GPS told him that he was exactly two miles from his destination. That was his cue. Pulling off to the side of the road, he sat staring at the clock on the dash as Hassan snapped the phone shut._

"_Why have we stopped? Abdul-Haqq, why are we stopped?" Hassan demanded from behind him._

"_Something is, uh, wrong, with engine," he said in a thick Arabic accent, but he was fluent in English, having told Hassan months ago that his mother was Russian-American, which explained his good speech. It was a lie, but he was believed. Every lie he told Hassan was believed. "We're overheating."_

"_There's water and coolant in the trunk. Fix it, fast. We've got a flight to catch."_

"_Yes, boss," he said as he opened the driver's door and got out._

_Going to the trunk, he opened it but didn't take out the coolant. Instead, he dug under the spare tire and took out an old, dirty oil rag._

_Wrapped in the rag was a gun._

_Pulling the slide back ever so slightly, he caught a glimpse of a round already chambered. Rounding the car, he got back into the driver's seat and dabbed at his forehead, his neck, all while Hassan kept asking what he was doing. What was going on._

_If he didn't get that car back on the road, he was fired._

"_Do you know what Abdul-Haqq means?" he asked as he looked at Hassan through the rearview mirror._

_The man was livid but he kept his cool composer as he answered, "Of course. It means Servant of the Truth."_

_Giving a nod, he said, "Servant of the Truth…and truth is, you're a murderer. And, I'm yours." Turning in his seat, he brought his left hand around and pointed the gun._

_Pop!_

_One shot; that was all it took. Right between the eyes._

_Dropping the gun to the floorboard, he left the car with the engine running and door open as he started the long walk two miles to the airstrip. He couldn't help but notice that the entire sky was sprinkled with stars. He could never see that many stars at home. As he walked, he thought about the reason he was there. The reason he had just shot and killed Sayid Abdullah Hassan._

_He threw a prayer up to the heavens as he thought about his friend. His captain. And as he walked and thought, a poem came to mind by one of his favorite poets, Walt Whitman._

"_This is thy hour, O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless; away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done. Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best. Night, sleep, death…and the stars."_

_Awaiting him at the airstrip was not Hassan's private jet, but a helicopter that would take him to another airstrip. Then he'd be on a private jet to Dubai._

_From Dubai, he would get on a commercial plane that would take him back home. First to Washington D.C. for a debrief, and then, finally, New York._

The plane landing jolted him from his fitful sleep. Peering out the window as his eyes focused through a fog, he saw the runway, the lights from the city beyond the airport, and the starless sky above New York City. He was home.

Once he was able to get off the plane, it took all his effort not to push people aside so he could get off first. He was so happy, so excited, but so extremely tired. Grabbing his carry-on bag, his only luggage, he left the plane and headed to the terminal.

It was like he was stuck in a fog. Everything that had once been so clear was now fading. He realized as he stood on the moving walkway, surround by people, that he had nothing to come back to. The mission was over, his job was done, and he was home, but where to? He no longer had a job as a detective, no longer a member of the Major Case Squad, and no longer partner to Alex Eames.

He was a man without a purpose…a mission. He was nothing.

Out on the sidewalk, he waved down a taxi, threw his luggage in the trunk and got in the passenger seat. He didn't think he would be able to get in the back of a car for a while to come. Not with his memories still intact.

The driver dropped him off in front of the building; he paid, extra tip for letting him ride shotgun, and then stood staring up at his door, luggage in hand. When he left it was the end of October. The fall weather having just begun to turn into winter. And now, it was summer; late September. It was hot. And, he'd missed another birthday for his job, his work.

Staring up at his door, he felt the keys in his hand as he rolled them around in his pocket. Letting out a breath, he walked up the steps to the stoop and pulled the keys out. Setting the luggage just inside the door, he pulled the door shut and locked it. Turning around, he walked back down the steps and kept walking.

Even though it was three in the morning, he knew the bar would be open. It never closed, just changed employees depending on time of the day or night. He sat on a stool and that bar and ordered a scotch. Glenlivet.

The first taste was the sweetest. He haven't had a glass since he left. Since the last night he'd seen Eames. Every so often, so not to scare her, he would send a message in her email, telling her that he was alive and okay.

The alive part was the truth, he wasn't sure about the 'okay' part. Downing the first drink, he asked the bartender if they had any aspirin. Getting a two tablet package, and having to pay nearly two bucks for it, he got up and went to the men's room. He locked the door and went over to the sink. Leaning over it, he tried to ease his aching head as he swallowed the pills with a handful of water.

He glanced up into the mirror and grimaced. The couple of hours sleep he'd gotten on the last leg of the journey home had been the most he'd gotten in days. Reaching up, he rubbed at the beard growth, and then pulled at his curls. To blend in with the culture, he hadn't shaven or cut his hair in months. Then there was his tanned skin. All those months spent in the desert sun…

Running his hand through his hair, over his face, he wanted it all to be washed away. The sand he still felt on his skin, the hot sun beating down on him, the sweat that coated his back, his head, his whole entire body…and the blood.

He wanted the blood gone.

Blood for blood. An eye for an eye. Death for a death.

He left the men's room, drank three more glasses, and then walked home just as the sun was forcing its light between the crevasses of the buildings that surrounded him.

As he shut the front door and locked it, he heard the central air trying to kick on before it stopped clicking. Frowning, he felt the heat in the house, the thick stuffiness of the air, and realized that the A/C unit must have went out while he was gone. Luckily for him, he had a window air conditioner stored in the closet. He grabbed it and took it into the kitchen and then got to work putting it in his window. Once it was on, he sat in front of it and relished in the cold air that hit him.

He sat at the kitchen table, leaning on it as he lost himself in thought for hours before getting up and moving his heavy and tired body to the bathroom where he stripped. Under the hot spray, he cleansed his body, getting rid of the grim and filth he still felt despite the fact that he'd showered plenty of times since he left that desert.

As the morning sunlight streamed through his window, he collapsed onto bed with only a towel around his waist, closed his eyes, and then finally slept.

* * *

Alex let herself into his apartment as she'd done once a week for the past eleven months, but this time it was different. She noticed the difference the moment she felt the cold air hit her as she shut the door and locked it. Walking into the kitchen, she spotted the air conditioning unit in the window as she tossed the spare key on the table. She hadn't done that.

Looking around the room as she headed further into the kitchen, she spotted a wallet, set of keys, and a passport on the counter. Opening the passport, she didn't have to read the name as she saw the picture. "Bobby," she said to herself before tossing it down as she headed into the living room.

There was a piece of luggage, a carry-on, sitting against the wall in the foyer just inside the front door and a pair of men's shoes next to it. Steam was still fogging up the mirror in the bathroom as she passed it and when she looked into the bedroom, she saw him. He was laying on his back, head turned toward the door, and with only a towel covering his waist as he silently slept.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching him as she took in his appearance. The first thing she noticed was the amount of weight he'd lost over the past year. He was looking fitter than before, more muscular, healthier, and that made her smile. She also noticed that he hadn't shaved or cut his hair in a really long time.

She'd seen him with that beard and long curls before, when he had been depressed about losing his mother, being on suspension without pay, and with no care in the world.

His skin was also darker than ever; wherever he'd been, he sure did get a lot of sun. That was until it got to his legs were the tan faded to his usual white. They weren't too white, not pasty, but whiter than his upper body. He moaned something in his sleep, turned onto his side, and then settled.

Alex had to look away; the part in the towel fell open, revealing _everything_ to her. She nearly blushed. She closed his door, giving him some privacy as she headed back down the hallway, she decided to let him sleep. From the dark circles she saw under his eyes, he was in need of plenty of it.

She cleaned his house like usual, watered his two plants, and then sat down on his couch and flipped on the television as she waited for him to wake up. During her wait, she ordered some food and drinks from the local pizza joint, watched some of his DVD's and some more bad TV before she laid out on the couch and fell asleep.

A noise woke her. It was faint, but she heard it none-the-less. Sitting up, she listened to hear it, the noise that had woke her. There it was again, a faint sound, and it was coming from down the hall. Getting up, she started for the hallway and the sound got louder.

It was coming from Bobby's room. Alex slowly crept along down the hall, listening to the soft moans and gasps of air that filled the silent house. As she got to his door, she hesitated in opening it, but figured she would take a peek in just to make sure he was okay.

What she saw made her gasp in a breath of her own before moving back and closing the door a little too loudly, suddenly, to where she heard a startled "What the fuck!" coming from behind the door.

Turning to walk away, she hurried into the living room as the door opened the hall. She was standing in the middle of the living room, red from embarrassment from head-to-toe, as Bobby stalked in from around the hall, with one hand on the towel that was still wrapped around his waist.

"Hi," she said as he stopped just inside the living room. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I didn't mean to interrupt," she struggled to get out as she faced him. Trying hard not to divert her eyes and look…lower.

Bobby stared wide-eyed at her for a long moment before speaking. "Hi…uh," he looked confused as he asked, "what're you doing here?"

"Your plants." When he only continued to look at her, without a shred of embarrassment of his own reddening his face or chest, she explained more clearly, "I came to water your plants and clean your house, like I promised you I would."

"Oh, right," he said as he suddenly shifted from one foot to the other as he looked around. Then, he looked down at himself and then back up at her. Pointing over his shoulder, he went to speak when nothing came out. Giving up, he suddenly turned and headed back to his bedroom.

Alex sighed heavily and with a groan sat heavily on his couch. She should've knocked first, but how was she to know that he wasn't having some bad dream but instead was having, she guessed, a very pleasurable one.

Ten very long minutes later and Bobby was walking back into the living room and this time he had clothes on. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt, and he was avoiding all eye contact with her completely as he headed to the kitchen.

She didn't know whether to get up to follow him, let herself out, or stay right were she was. After thinking about it, she figured if she wanted to leave, she would have already done that. The truth was, she was happy he was home and she wanted to talk to him. Prying herself off the couch, she went into the kitchen.

He was leaning on the counter, head bowed, as he waited for the coffee to stop brewing. It was going on five o'clock at night. She'd gotten there a little after six, so that meant he'd slept for nearly eleven hours. He really did need the sleep.

"I see you've gotten some sun," she teased as she opened the refrigerator and peered in. It had been emptied when Bobby left last October, but she had kept some drinks in it for when she came over to clean. That was also the reason why there was even coffee in his cabinet. "Want a water?" she asked as she pulled one of the bottles out for herself. When he didn't answer, she looked over at him and saw him staring at the full coffee pot. "Bobby?" she asked and waited for a response.

There came only silence.

Stepping closer to him, she reached out and touched his shoulder. He jerked up, snapping his head back as he turned to look at her. She jumped back at his sudden movements and stared at him. "Whoa, easy. Are you okay?"

Bobby was taking a deep breath as he stared back at her but still not answering. He blinked a few times and then gave a nod before turning around and opening a cabinet. He took down two cups and filled them. Handing her one, he took his to the table and sat down in front of the A/C.

Alex looked at the coffee in one hand and the bottle water in the other. Putting the water down, she sat across from him and took a sip of the coffee. When neither spoke for several minutes, she asked, "Where are you?"

Bobby looked up at her in confusion as he rested his hand over his mouth.

"In your head, where are you?" she asked, clarifying.

Giving her a long look, one that she'd seen him give many suspects when he was trying to figure them out, he said with a soft voice, "I'm nowhere," before bringing the cup to his lips and taking a drink.

Alex frowned at that answer as she watched him. "You're somewhere, because you're not here."

Bobby sighed and closed his eyes. "Alex," he said with a pleading voice. "I just got home."

"And why didn't you call me to let me know. I could've picked you up from the airport."

He rubbed at his head, his eyes, and then his beard. "I wanted to be alone. Alex, please…" he said as he stared at the table. "I just…I want to be alone for once. In my home, in peace and quiet. To think, and to just…_be_."

Alex gave a nod then took a few more drinks of the coffee. She could understand that, and she did, but she also wanted to know what happened. She wanted to see him, and it was hard for her to get up and leave now that he was back. "I'll leave, Bobby. I will, but I want to make sure that you're okay. I haven't heard from you in nearly two months. Your last email was in June. What happened?"

Bobby had yet to open his eyes as he kept rubbing at his beard. He breathed out deeply into his hand and then peered up at her. "Don't you work anymore?"

She sighed and looked away. He wasn't going to answer her. "I work, yes."

He gave a nod and asked, "You still with the Computer Crimes unit?"

"For now," she answered as she looked back at him. "Speaking of which, Bobby-"

"Ross's killer is dead, Alex," he suddenly told her, shocking her in place. "That's all you need to know. Now, go home, okay? I'll talk to you later."

She stared at him for a long moment, taking in the news of Ross's killer, of Hassan, being dead. She knew there was more to it than that, but she obeyed his wish as she finished the coffee and then got up to leave.

As she passed him, she leaned down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, giving him a hug, telling him, "I'm glad you're home, Bobby. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," he softly told her as he kept his head down, eyes in front on his coffee cup.

The almost year between them had put a strain on them, she could feel it. They weren't the same, and she could feel that too as she left his house and headed to her car. As she sat in the driver's seat, stopped at a red light, and hands on the steering wheel, she felt it all crash into her as the tears fell.

She hoped they would be okay. She hoped he would be okay. Once the light turned green, she was on her way home with thoughts of Bobby quickly forgotten as she focused on her plans for tomorrow. It was her other day off, and she was going to take her nephew to a ball game, just the two of them.

Then she thought that she might invite Bobby along. He would probably say no, but it was worth a shot. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text message to his phone. There was no response by the time she got home, nor by the time she showered and got into bed.

However, at one twenty-three in the morning while she slept, her phone chimed with a received text.

* * *

Having slept for eleven hours, he couldn't sleep that night at all. He walked his floors, watched TV, went out to the store on the corner and did some late night shopping to restock his refrigerator and cabinets, and then finished what he had started before being interrupted by Eames hours before.

He was showered and dressed for the day ahead by the time seven in the morning rolled around. Leaving his house, he walked a couple blocks over to the barber shop he'd gone to nearly every week since he'd moved to the neighborhood. The barber, Al, spotted him and smiled wide with delight.

"Bobby! Long time, how are you?"

Bobby smiled at the man as he gave him a handshake, which was then turned into a hug as the older man pulled him in for one. "I'm good. Need a shave and a haircut."

"I see. You're looking like you did a few years back. Everything okay?"

He sat down in the chair as he told Al, "I'm better now that I'm home. I've missed New York."

"Where you go?" Al asked as he started lathering his face with shaving cream.

Bobby had thought about what he would tell people when and if they asked him that very question. Not missing a beat, he told Al, "Traveling around Europe." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

"Ah, Europe. Where to? I'm from Istanbul."

Bobby blinked back as he looked up at the man who lightly placed a straight razor against his neck. "You're Turkish?"

Al smiled as he started to give him the best shave of his life. "That is correct. I came here when I was twelve year old with my mother and brother and four sisters." Then Al proceeded to tell him the great story of his immigration to New York from Turkey.

By the time he was done, Bobby was clean shaven and his hair had lost all of the long curls. Running a hand through the short chopped hair, he smiled slightly in satisfaction as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was feeling back to normal.

He paid Al extra for a job well done and then wished the old man well before leaving. The next block over he went to his favorite diner and order a meal he hadn't had in over a year as he read a copy of the _New York Ledger_ while drinking a cup of coffee. Looking out the window, and over the neighborhood, he took in the warm day and the people passing by, a smile on his face.

Home, he thought again as he returned to the paper.

Bobby was halfway through breakfast when his cell vibrated in his pocket. It was Eames. "Good morning," he answered instead of his usual 'Goren'.

Alex was taken by surprise by that before saying, "Good morning to you."

"What's up?" he asked as he continued eating.

"I got your text. I really wish you would reconsider."

Bobby took a sip of the coffee before answering her, "Alex, I'm not spending the day with you and your nephew. I told you last night that I just got home. Give me some time to unwind first. To figure out what I'm going to do."

Alex let out a sigh and she was silent for a long moment. "Fine," she breathed out. Then she asked, "What do you need to figure out?"

"Well," he said as he leaned back in the booth and picked up his cup of coffee. "I have to figure out what I'm going to do about work. I need a job."

Alex was quiet for a moment before asking, "How're you on money?"

Bobby took a big drink of the coffee before answering, "Better than I've been in years, actually. I'll be good for at least three months before I start to run dry on funds. So, I've got time to look around."

"The FBI isn't keeping you on with them?"

He gave a shrug as he looked out the window. "I don't know, they might. There was some talk, but nothing definite."

Truth was, he was hoping for something with the NYPD. The Bureau would love to have him, and if nothing came with the police department, then he would take them up on their offer. He just had to search around, bide his time, and see what happened. He had three months before he had to make a decision.

"Are you sure you don't want to come? We got Yankee tickets."

Bobby smiled into the phone but had to decline. "I can't. I'll talk to you later, Eames. Have fun with your nephew."

"I will. You have a good day too, Bobby. And, again, welcome home."

"Thanks," he told her before hanging up. He finished his food and then his coffee before leaving.

Later that day, while he was sitting on his couch, sipping on a beer and flipping through his hundreds of channels with nothing on to watch, his cell chimed with a text message. Picking it up, he read the text from Alex.

She wanted to know if he wanted to have dinner with her tonight. Bobby felt his jaw work a little, twitching slightly, as he stared at the message. Closing his eyes, he debated whether to answer her or not.

Putting the phone down on the table, he got up and went to his bedroom and shut the door.

Returning to the living room hours later, he picked up the phone to put it on the charger when he saw two more messages from her. One was to ask how he was, the other was to tell him that she could come over if he wanted to talk.

He plugged the phone up to the charger and stared at the phone as he fought with himself to either text or call her back. Bobby remembered the last night they had talked, he remembered what was said, by her and by him, and turned away from the phone. He grabbed another beer from the refrigerator and spotted the water bottles Alex had put in there. He grabbed one of those as well before going back to his bedroom.

Alex would have to wait.

As he drank the beer, and opened his book, he leaned back against the headboard of his bed as he started reading.

This was the most normal thing he'd done in what felt like forever. He had to get back to normal. He had to put the past behind him, the desert and the mission, and he had to focus on the here and now. He had to focus on his future and what that now meant.

Alex had to wait, because he no longer could. He had to find himself again. He had to find who Bobby Goren was now that he was no longer a detective. Now that he was no longer the undercover FBI agent going after Ross's killer. He needed to find himself, and Alex wasn't getting that. She wasn't helping him either. Every time he saw her, he saw that night. He saw them together, having sex on his couch. He saw her in his kitchen, in his living room, telling him they were just friends and nothing more.

He saw her sitting in her car, being mad at him for being exactly what she asked for, for being her friend.

As his friend, she needed to back off. As his friend, she needed to leave him alone so he could figure all this out.

As his friend, she needed to let him forget all about her, and them, on that night being more than just friends.

He ignored her until she finally gave up on him.

And then, almost exactly three months later, a week before he made his final decision of whether or not he would join the FBI for good, an old friend called and invited him to dinner.

To say he was surprised to hear from Joseph Hannah was an understatement. He was shocked. Then he was even more shocked to learn that his friend was promoted to Captain of the Major Case Squad.

The moment he was offered his old job back, all thoughts of the FBI were gone. He agreed without ever knowing that Joe also invited Eames back as his partner. Joe didn't tell him that until dessert arrived. It made the chocolate cake he'd ordered that much more sweeter.

As he left the restaurant, he hoped that Alex would now, since they would once again be partners, stay strictly his partner and friend. It was for the best, not only for them, but for him.

Neither one of them needed the complication that that one night had presented to them during Ross's death. Their avoidance, their anger, along with the wanting and needing and the not getting…

She wasn't in love with him. He wasn't in love with her. That was what it was all about. That was the way it was. And that was the way it would stay.

He returned home, tossed his keys on the table, and then called his partner to tell her that he accepted the offer back to Major Case. As he waited for her to pick up, he felt that everything was finally going to be okay. That he was okay, and he couldn't have been happier.

The End of Part 1

PS: I might write one-shot/companion pieces to this series that takes place throughout Season 10 of LOCI, but I'll do that whenever the inspiration hits me to do so. Also, I will start posting new chapters to 'Never Say Never', which is part two to this series, soon. Thank you everyone for reading!


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